17. Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Frankie
“ Y ou’re freaking me out, Benji .”
Frankie glanced sideways, not faltering in her pace, and scowled at her trail buddy. He’d visibly startled then looked away with an exaggerated display of distraction that almost made her laugh.
Almost.
“Sorry,” he said with a self-effacing chuckle. “I was lost in thought. It’s beautiful here.”
She fought to maintain a neutral expression even as her lips pulled up at the corners. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed doing something—anything—outside until she reached the trailhead. Since climbing out of her car, she’d been greedily filling her lungs with drag after drag of the fresh, chilly air. Playful gusts toyed with the ends of her braids and caressed the frustrated warmth of her cheeks. Being out in the expanse of Stevens Pass calmed the lingering irritation from the evening before when Benjamin had tried his hardest to drive her nuts. He seemed to be searching for any excuse to jab at her sanity, and she’d be damned if she gave him any more ammunition.
“No place like it,” she said, matter-of-fact, refusing to allow him to witness the unfettered joy bursting from her chest.
“Indeed.”
The ascent up to Skyline Lake had Frankie so enthralled that she’d nearly forgotten all about the terrifying Professor Clark.
Terrifying. Ha.
Since leaving NWU for winter break, Benjamin had morphed into nothing but a nuisance. And while her family law grade still hung in the balance, her former professor no longer held the same intimidation as before. In class, he had been a gatekeeper to a solid GPA, but out here in the snow, on her turf . . . he was just a man.
And Frankie feared no man.
Not since her last foster home all those years ago.
“So, you normally engage in these types of activities?” Benjamin asked through labored breaths and slight wheezes.
“Yes,” Frankie scoffed. “I guide for Off the Beaten.”
“And you enjoy this?”
“You don’t?”
She noted his pause, assuming he was giving thoughtful consideration to something that should be a pretty simple answer. In her experience, the customers she guided either loved snowshoeing or hated it with a fiery passion. For Frankie, doing anything outside was like medicine. No matter what ailed her—stress or lingering trauma—getting back to nature soothed her troubles like a mystical balm.
After being adopted by the Millers—her destined family—most of her free time was spent exploring the area. Her mom and dad took her and Jonathan on every trail, down every river, up every mountain as though they were helping her search for peace. It didn’t take long before she found it. The outdoors tamed the once-feral spirit inside of her by quieting the urge to constantly prepare for a fight. She found safety. Freedom.
Purpose.
“I suppose it has its merits,” Benjamin began. “For instance, physical activity is good for the lungs and endurance. And the peace is rather soothing. Being cut off from the pressures of the everyday is proving to be—”
“Ohmygod stop,” Frankie growled.
Benjamin huffed indignantly. “You asked me—”
“I know what I asked.” She whirled around. “But you’re turning it into some categorical analysis that you can lump into a pros and cons list. Not everything has to be so sterile or rigid. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the ‘merits’ of snowshoeing.”
“But you asked —”
“I asked if you liked it.” She sighed. “Not for a dissertation.”
Benjamin chewed on his lip, and Frankie could practically feel him swallowing the rest of his bullet points. “I guess if I have to give a gut reaction . . .”
“Yes. Do exactly that.”
“Then I hate it.” His scowl gave way to a broad smile. Relief washed over his body, and he tilted his head back. The air was dense and foretold of snow. “I truly hate it. I will never snowshoe again.”
The genuineness of his response shocked Frankie. She’d expected something a little more politically correct: I can see why others enjoy this particular activity, but perhaps it isn’t quite for me. Pip pip, blah blah. She hadn’t counted on an unedited expression of loathing. But it was his grin that startled her the most. Or perhaps it was how his deep dimples and the crinkled lines at the corner of his eyes awakened hibernating butterflies in her stomach.
“Well.” She cleared her throat loudly to scare away the annoying bugs. “Isn’t that better? Going with your gut instead of some empirical system?”
“Yes,” he said with straight white teeth still exposed.
She ignored his indigo eyes as they scanned her face, lingering on the lip she worried .
“Let’s go.”
“If we must,” he said with a sigh, an edge of mirth dancing on each syllable.
Frankie took off, ascending the trail at the same speed she’d been hauling since the start.
“Hey, slow down. Dang it,” he mumbled, catching the front of his right snowshoe on the back of his left heel.
Dang it? Was this the Hallmark Channel or something?
“Do you ever swear?” Frankie did her best to keep any hint of humor out of her tone. She refused to warm to him; he didn’t deserve it.
“Everyone swears sometimes, Francesca.”
“I’ve never heard you do it.” She shrugged, really thinking back, and, nope, he’d never dropped so much as a damn or hell in her presence.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” he said as though the reasoning should be obvious.
“Because it would be uncouth? Unseemly? Unprofessional?” She knew excessive cursing was frowned upon at the college, but it wasn’t unheard of for a few choice words to get flung around during especially heated discussions. Her child and family inequalities professor loved a certain four-letter word and had zero qualms about using it.
He chuckled. It was a smooth and rich sound, like decadent hot chocolate for the ears, and made her shiver.
“No.” He shook his head and looked at her, claiming her eyes with the frozen ocean depths of his. “But there are only two very specific times when I do, and you haven’t been privy to either. Princess .”
His implication was crystal clear . . . at least with regard to one of the situations.
Sex .
If her cheeks weren’t already flaming from physical exertion and the nip in the air, Frankie would have to admit she blushed. She never blushed, except this wasn’t the first time he managed to make her do so. What was his problem? Hadn’t he agreed to keep his distance this week? Yet here he was, weaseling in on her outside time, ruining her communion with nature. Prick.
She steeled her face and shrugged.
“And it appears I never will.” She smiled sweetly before rolling her eyes.
His buoyant laughter floated across the glistening drifts on either side of the trail. It did things to Frankie that she refused to acknowledge.
They lumbered their way up a set of switchbacks. The elevation gain was minimal yet exponentially more challenging in snowshoes and the extra foot of untouched powder. Frankie pushed through, relishing the burn of her glutes and thighs as she sped her way up the winding route. She had to hand it to the professor; for a first-timer, he was holding his own despite her ambitious speed.
And it pissed her off.
She wasn’t trying to lose him, not completely. She just wanted a gap between them so she wouldn’t have to hear his voice. Or smell his warm cinnamony scent, which seemed to grow stronger the more he pushed to match her speed. A wafting breeze added to her frustration as it swirled the heady, befuddling aroma around her.
Eventually, Frankie couldn’t see or hear any of the others in their group.
“Do you suppose we should pause and wait for the others to catch up? It might be the safe thing to do,” Benjamin said. He hid his elevated exertion well, yet Frankie could still make out the ragged drag of his heavy breath .
“There’s no need.” She didn’t slow. “Buddy system, remember?”
“I highly doubt Johnny’s reasoning for pairing us off was so you could blast up the trail like an out-of-control rocket.”
She stopped and peered over her shoulder.
“And how could you possibly know anything about my brother? It’s not like you’ve been there for him since college.”
She caught him flinch. She’d hit a nerve.
Good .
Her brother never uttered anything but the highest praise about his best man, and yet he hadn’t shown up when Jon needed him—not when their father had passed away or following Cynthia’s accident. He didn’t even know Jon and Lucy had gone missing on Mount Stuart for several days last summer. What kind of “friend” checks out of someone’s life like that?
Benji was merely an acquaintance her brother hadn’t had the heart to cut loose.
He remained silent. Rolling back his shoulders, he resumed his pace, staring ahead of Frankie’s position on the trail. She continued forward as they passed a large green structure on their left. The ski resort’s utility tower marked the halfway point of the ascent.
“Feel free to stop and catch your breath,” she drolled over her shoulder. “I understand if you can’t handle it. Someone should be along shortly.”
“Not a chance,” he said, using his stern professor tone. “We have to stay together, Francesca.”
“Then keep up.”